My Dearest Friend Read Free Page A

yet never far away from her thoughts. What was her life about? Shadows?
    Boy, it was amazing how fast a life could get fouled up, Jack Hamilton was thinking. It was amazing. He pulled his old silver Honda into the drive next to his wife’s white Mustang convertible (a present from her father), gathered up the sacks of easy deli foods—salty meats, oily salads, oniony buns—beer, and milk for Alexandra’s bottle, and made his way up the gravel drive into the A-frame house, the first house he had ever owned.
    Here he was, coming home. Dr. Jack Hamilton (although they didn’t use that title here in the East), a college professor, the newest member of the Westhampton College English department, dapper and trim in his gray flannels and blue blazer. Arms laden, still he managed to open the front door. It swung inward, and his two-year-old daughter, dressed in pink, came flying across the room to him.
    “Daddy! Daddy!” Alexandra tackled him at knee level, almost knocking him off his feet.
    Jack set the groceries on the table and bent down to pick her up. He tossed her above his head, brought her down to nuzzle her stomach, his mustache tickling her soft skin so that she giggled and writhed with helpless glee. Her soft fat tummy smelled of baby powder and she wriggled like a puppy.
    Across the long sweep of room, an actress in a dress coated with sequins glittered on the television screen, drinking champagne and looking scornfully at an actor in swimming trunks and a gold necklace. Carey Ann pulled her attention away from the drama and came to greet Jack. Barefoot, she made her way carefully across a floor littered with what seemed to be three million wooden and rubber toys: rock-a-stack rings, puzzle pieces, building blocks, bright pink naked baby dolls.
    “Hi, darlin’,” she said.
    Whatever else Jack would ever think of his wife, he would always think she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had long blond shimmery hair, huge blue eyes, a perfect figure. Now she was wearing jean shorts and a white T-shirt, and Jack loved the way her nipples showed like buttons through the soft cotton. And Carey Annloved him too; that showed in her eyes.
    “Glad you’re home,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss Jack, who tried to tuck Alexandra into one arm, but didn’t succeed; their daughter put out her fat hands to push her mother away, crying, “No! Mine!”
    Sighing, unkissed, Carey Ann stepped away, discouraged. “I just don’t know when she’s going to stop that,” she said. She followed Jack into the kitchen to help him unpack the groceries. “I’m sorry the place is still such a mess. I did get all the towels and linens unpacked today. While Lexi napped. And believe it or not, I had all her toys in the playroom, but she insisted on bringing them in here. I don’t know. How was your day?”
    “Cracker!” Alexandra yelled, seeing Jack bring out a box.
    “Fine,” Jack said, handing his daughter a fist of crackers. “Look what I brought for dinner.”
    “Oh, Jack,” Carey Ann said happily, seeing the beers he pulled from the sack. “You sweetie. I’ve been wanting one so much.”
    “Me drink too!” Lexi cried.
    “Here’s your drink,” Carey Ann said lovingly, getting the bottle from the refrigerator and handing it to Alexandra.
    “
No!
That!” Lexi pointed to the beer bottles in her mother’s and father’s hands.
    “Babies don’t drink beer,” Carey Ann said sweetly. She tried to distract her daughter. “Here, want a bite of salami? Lexi
like
salami.”
    “That!”
Lexi cried. Her peaches-and-cream face scrunched up and turned rosy with anger.
    “I don’t suppose it could hurt her to give her a little sip, do you?” Carey Ann asked, looking at Jack.
    He could see blue circles under his wife’s eyes. “Probably not,” he said. Then he grinned conspiratorially. “Actually, it might make her a little sleepy.”
    “Oh, Jack,” Carey Ann said, but grinned back. She squatted down and